If you're tired of reading just go home.
It's late and you haven't yet bought meat and bread and vegetables
or tears for the existential dressings.
How false the day is when it ends as if it had been something other
than a chapel where you forgot to take off your hat
and someone pulled you discreetly aside
Mr., please, you know. . .!

The false day, lived as if by another
more stupid, more lazy than you
who has usurped your name, your body, your feelings.

Translated by Camelia and Andreea Luncan (with suggestions in English by
Luci Shaw and Jeanne Murray Walker)